


Scars a Battle Map

by Bohemienne



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: F/F, Fire Emblem: Three Houses Blue Lions Route, Fire Emblem: Three Houses Blue Lions Route Spoilers, Fire Emblem: Three Houses Spoilers, M/M, Post-Timeskip (Fire Emblem: Three Houses), Reunion, how dare you die for me I'll die for YOU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-17
Updated: 2019-08-17
Packaged: 2020-09-06 03:50:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,255
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20284924
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bohemienne/pseuds/Bohemienne
Summary: Once, a boy saved him. He would forever be his.(Major spoilers for Blue Lions route through Part II (Azure Moon), Chapter 16.)





	Scars a Battle Map

**Author's Note:**

> I HAVE LOTS OF FEELINGS ABOUT MY BEAUTIFUL BLUE LIONS BABIES OKAY
> 
> **Seriously major spoilers for Part II (Azure Moon) through the end of Chapter 16.** Seriously. Mega-huge spoiler for what was my absolute most favorite moment in the entire game IT'S SO GOOD.

A boy stood alone.

The last fingers of sunlight ran through his golden hair as he stood on the hillside, arms stretched wide, child’s mouth set with a determination far beyond his years. He stood alone as his own soldiers advanced on him, spears and arrows at the ready.

He alone stood for them, defiant and certain and fierce. Dedue could have thrown himself upon those spears—and would have, readily—but only this boy could give them pause.

Only this boy could gather up the knotted threads of Dedue’s life, one about to be snipped short, and braid them into something meaningful. And for that, he owed him everything.

For that, he would do anything to see that proud smile again.

* * *

“You don’t have to do this,” Catherine said, carriage rattling over the cobbled streets. “It’s not too late.”

“You would do this for Lady Rhea,” Dedue said.

Not a question. Catherine’s hand fell from Shamir’s as the mercenary turned away, toward the curtained carriage window. Dedue wondered if Rhea’s spectre would ever cease to hover over them, if her memory would drive a wedge further and further between an otherwise beautiful bond. They deserved each other—they deserved to put the archbishop behind them. Whether they could, or not, was another question.

He would never know the answer.

“I must do this,” Dedue said, “because no one else will. And it must be now.” His heart was lead, weighing him to the carriage seat. “We’re out of time.”

“The people of Faerghus will survive without Dimitri.” Shamir met him with that unflinching, unsettling gaze. “Will Dimitri survive without you?”

Dedue froze as the carriage slowed to a halt. She couldn’t mean—no. The prince would mourn him, yes. But he had so much else to live for, so many others to give his bottomless love and strength. To Dedue, he had been the sun. But to Dimitri, he was only one of many stars.

If he could flare this one last time before burning out, it would be enough. To die knowing his prince lived was enough.

Gilbert thumped on the transport carriage’s roof once: they were through the prison gates.

Catherine and Shamir exchanged a look, and then a quick squeeze of hands once more before donning the imperial soldier’s helms. Shamir leaned forward and latched the cuffs on Dedue’s wrists; draped the sack over his head. All was darkness. If only the last thing he saw could have been his prince’s smile once more . . .

But no—the last thing he saw would be the emperor’s face, contorted with rage and disbelief. To know she’d been deceived, that she’d never know the satisfaction of killing Dimitri—he could die, even by her hand, with a smile on his face.

Catherine and Shamir—in their guard disguises—led him from the carriage, shoving and pulling roughly to keep up the act. They dragged him across the prison yard, crammed with transports, with prisoners from all across Faerghus who’d been brought to Fhirdiad to die for the emperor’s delight. He now was one such prisoner, allegedly being escorted in to his cell. Today, though, was a special day: the day the prince of this conquered kingdom would die.

An argument as they approached the transport where the prince was being loaded, even now.

Shamir’s elbow shoving Dedue forward roughly. Guards blocked, arguing still.

Ever so briefly—the warmth of his prince’s body against his as they collided. How Dedue yearned to reach out and grasp him—gaze upon him one last time.

That warmth, that shove, he would carry with him for this short ride to the grave.

And then he was hoisted into the transport. The one intended for the prince. As Catherine and Shamir hauled the prince away to safety.

The transport door slammed shut; the padlock clicked. The exchange had been made.

True, they’d first thought to merely snatch the prince and run. But they were deep in the city, the imperial forces all around them—they’d be stopped and killed in minutes. With the exchange, at least, it bought them precious time to flee before their swap was found out. It was why he had to die.

He sank against the hard bench of the transport that stank of filth and fear. Across the yard, he heard hooves clattering. He prayed to the god of war and victory that they would make it away safe.

_My heart, my purpose, my life—it will always be yours,_ Dedue thought, casting his yearning out the window. One last indulgence before his end.

And then the transport was moving again.

Carrying him forth. To his executioner. To his prince’s dearest friend.

If Dimitri could ever care for him a fraction of what he felt for Edelgard—

But then there were the shouts, the stamping hooves, the flames and the stench of blasting powder in the air. Chaos. And ringing through the streets of this proud holy city: a Duscur cry.

_It wasn’t supposed to be this way,_ Dedue thought, the world crumbling around them. _I’m meant to die._

* * *

Garreg Mach burned with memories, with smoke so thick it choked him, brought tears to his eyes. Dimitri had barely looked at him since the battle, since Rodrigue’s death. Hardly an acknowledgment that he was alive at all. Perhaps he was yet another ghost to the prince. It was selfish to expect anything more.

Rain fell on the ruins and Dedue lifted his head to face it. If he was a ghost, then let it pass through him.

“You insufferable idiot.”

Dedue blinked, tears clinging to his lashes. His prince—his king—shimmered before him, footsteps mere whispers across the grass. Childishly, Dedue wanted to run. He’d been too afraid to face Dimitri then, and he wasn’t ready still.

“You fool. How dare you throw your life away for me? How dare you—”

Dimitri faltered, and in an instant Dedue was at his side, holding him up. Arms at his sides, grip firm. The same warmth he remembered colliding with him in a prison yard long ago.

“Dedue,” Dimitri sobbed. “Why?”

“My life has always been yours.” He steadied Dimitri on his feet, but a powerful force kept his hands where they were, against the thin, now-soaking linen of the prince’s loose shirt. Rain plastered ragged blond locks to Dimitri’s face, but even without the sunset—he was still that golden one who’d saved him in Duscur so many years ago.

He would die for him all over again. He might yet still. But to see him once more, even broken, ragged as this—

He was grateful for the rain.

“If your life is truly mine,” Dimitri said, “then I command you: don’t ever throw it away again.”

“But to save you—” Dedue whispered.

“No. Not even that.”

Dimitri raised a hand, damp fingertips finding Dedue’s cheek. They traversed his scars, careful, reverent, and Dedue’s chest was so tight he could barely breathe.

“My life,” Dimitri said, “is nothing without yours.”

Dedue closed his eyes as his prince, his savior, his single guiding purpose dragged a thumb across his lower lip.

“Then you understand how I feel.”

“I do.” Dimitri was closer still—that warmth, that face hovering before his own. “Because I would have done the same for you.”

Dedue’s eyes went wide. A single blue eye fixed on him in return, unblinking. “My prince—”

“No. Not your prince.” Their foreheads met; noses; breaths becoming one. “Just yours.”

And they no longer stood alone.

**Author's Note:**

> scream about FE3H with me @Bohemienne6


End file.
